


Fallen Leaves

by Multikicker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But the Christmas time fic you're going to receive, F/F, Multi's angstficcing, Not the Christmas movie you asked for, Please ignore the fact this is being posted in January, Talon Tracer, That Old Time Graveyard Scene, Visiting deceased loved ones on Christmas Eve, Widowmaker (Lena Oxton Base), Widowtracer (mentioned), Zarcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:46:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multikicker/pseuds/Multikicker
Summary: A graveyard. Christmas Eve. A gravesite, and a visitor.......more than one.





	Fallen Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Writin' all the bad feelings out.

The air was crisp and cold in the graveyard, fresh snowfall coating the ground. The trees were bare, all their leaves fallen and gone. It had a pleasing symmetry, the spider reflected, as she stood above the twin gravestones. Trees in winter were like humans, she thought. Without all their colourful trappings, they were all the same. Bare bones, devoid of emotions. They didn't care about anyone but themselves.  
They hurt each other.   
The spider was happy she didn't have to be like that.   
She was fine the way she was.   
Better than she was before, in any case.

She didn't have to hide what she was with leaves and colours and falsehoods.

A tear ran down her cheek as she rested a hand on the gravestone in front of her, placing a bouquet of roses on the earth in front of the slab, which read:

 

_Amélie Oxton_

_Beloved Wife_

_Friend_

_“Dream big and don't look back.”_

_You are not forgotten._

 

The other grave, she didn't care about.

“I wish I could have saved you, love. But sometimes…...we can't save everyone.” The spider whispered, brushing the snow off the top of the headstone.

* * *

 Angela Ziegler moved reverently through the snow-covered graveyard, walking past frosted-over headstones, towards the graves she had come to visit. Beside her walked her girlfriend, the Russian towering (relatively) over the Swiss doctor. Aleks had come with her, insistent she needed protection, and Angela couldn’t fault her. Amélie’s fate had them all cautious, and deservedly so. The prospect of your friends and family winding up missing or dead in the span on a single night was no small threat, and every ex-Overwatch agent had been notified to make sure they stayed paired up and safe. But despite the danger, this was a trip she needed to make. It was Christmas Eve, and that meant it was a time for friends and family. She had dearly departed to speak to.

* * *

The spider’s gaze shot up, away from the graves.

People.

There were others here, others in the graveyard.

She hadn’t expected that. It was Christmas Eve, people should be at home, with their families.  
Or at least drinking their woes away inside, out of the cold.

With any luck, they wouldn’t bother her.

Still……..She turned slightly, checking over her shoulder. A shocking mop of pink hair was moving closer, escorting…….. _shit_ . That was a _very_ distinct blonde ponytail.

Confrontation seemed…..inevitable, unfortunately.

Wiping the single tear from her eye, she drew back and composed herself.

It was time for the game face.

* * *

 

Angela froze, arm outstretched to prevent Aleksandra from moving further. "There's someone there." She hissed, quietly drawing her pistol. "At their graves. Pistols out." The Russian woman nodded, and drew her own sidearm. Together they crept forward cautiously, towards the dark figure standing over the graves of their friends, muffled footsteps making crunching noises on the snow-covered ground. Without turning, the figure spoke.

"Doctor Ziegler. Major Zaryanova. Visiting friends?" Angela froze, and felt Aleks do the same behind her. That voice sounded......no, that couldn't be. The figure turned to face them, and her breath caught in her chest. "......Lena?" She breathed, lowering her gun slightly. A cold, thin smile appeared on the face of the woman in front of her, and she stepped back, uncertain. It was Lena, but things were wrong. The untidy mop of brown hair was now purple, the freckled skin blue. Her eyes burned like liquid gold, and the once-happy features were icy. "Don't you wish." The Not-Lena said, leaning back and resting an arm on the top of one of the graves nonchalantly. "But we can't always have what we want, Doctor." She drew a gun from a hip holster and raised it, prompting Angela to bring her own pistol back up. Laughing sharply, the Not-Lena spun the gun around and holstered it again, now actually sitting on one of the tombstones. “Believe me, I would _love_ to kill you.” The blue woman said, still smiling. “But I have orders that say otherwise. So you see, I don't get everything I want either.” She patted the headstone fondly, snow flecking onto her hand. “Amelíe here made a beautiful corpse.” She said, sighing wistfully. “The way the blood blossomed on the sheets…..priceless.”

Angela's look of horror grew as she realised what she was hearing. “You….you killed Amelíe…..you killed your wife….in cold blood….” She stuttered in shock, still processing the information. Lena had killed Amelíe. Her best friend had killed her own wife and then become this….monster. “I told you as much, didn't I?” Not-Lena said with a smile, lightly brushing snow off her granite perch. “My first kill, my finest kill…..perfection.” Angela tightened her grip on her weapon, aim wavering over this nightmare made real. “What- what are y-your orders involving me?” She stammered, backing up slightly until she was side-by-side with Aleks. Not-Lena's smile grew wider at the question, and she slid off the headstone, feet crunching in the snow. “I think you already know the answer to that, Doctor.” She said, every word a threat of a fate worse than death.

Angela's eyes widened, and she drew closer to Aleksandra, as if her love’s presence alone could keep her safe. “No….” She breathed in horror. “No! I would rather die!” Not-Lena spread her palms wide with that same hollow smile. “Killing you would normally be my first choice as well, but they seem to think you’d make a wonderful addition to our little family.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Personally, I think you’d look absolutely _stunning_ in black. And with the success of Project Widowmaker-” and she tapped her chest proudly “-that's me- well, they're always looking for new….volunteers, shall we say.”

Angela felt Aleks wrap an arm protectively around her, and her love drew back the hammer of her pistol and aimed it at the Not-Lena. “Leave, _creature._ ” The Russian woman spat. “Do not taint this place with your presence any longer. Leave. Now.” A soft chuckle was the only response. Not-Lena reached into a pocket and removed a small coin, flipping it through the air lazily. “I could…..but I was here first. And I really don't think it's any of your business how I spend my time with my wife.” She said, leaning over and hugging the cold rock of Amelíe’s headstone. “They want to disturb your rest, my love.” Widowmaker cooed to the granite slab. “They don't understand. You're not in pain anymore. Nothing can hurt you now. You are at peace.”

There was something about the way the woman said all this that sickened Angela to her core. Everything this ‘Widowmaker’ said was a perversion of love, a twisting of Lena as she remembered her. It was unnatural, _wrong_ . “You’re a monster…” She whispered, drawing closer to Alek’s side. Widowmaker’s gaze snapped up to meet her own, and the assassin’s face twisted into an expression of rage. “I love her!” Widowmaker spat, clutching the headstone tighter. “I set her _free!_ Don’t take the high ground with me, Ziegler.” The golden eyes blazed out from behind the grave, smoldering with restrained anger.

“People let each other down. They hurt each other. No one can hurt her now……...nobody can make her cry.” Angela bit back her response, unsure. The picture just kept getting worse, this….’Widowmaker’ was clearly out of her mind…..poor Lena. Poor happy, smiling, kind Lena…….she’d crossed Talon - because it _had_ to be Talon - and paid the price, and her fate - and Amélie’s - was clearly meant be be a warning to the rest of Overwatch. Staring into those golden eyes, she searched them for any trace of her best friend, any twitch that might signal that something Lena still remained. Widowmaker kept up her constant stream of whispers to Amélie’s grave, still glaring at her.

 

There wasn’t anything.

Nothing to merit any futile attempts at breaking whatever Talon had done to her, nothing to merit even trying to reach through to any part of Lena that was still, well, Lena.

Nothing but a doctor’s conscience and a best friend’s concern.

 

“Lena?” Angela asked, stepping closer to where the Talon Agent lurked behind Amélie's headstone. “Lena. I know something's there, Lena. Some part of you, some bit of my best friend is still in there. Please, Lena. Let us help you.” She kept moving forward, footsteps crunching on the thin snow. “It's useless, Ziegler.” Widowmaker snapped. “You're wasting your time. Lena Oxton died like the weakling she was, and Talon took her and made me, and I'm here to stay. She had her chance. She lost.” The Talon agent’s words were harsh and clipped, which made Angela grin. She was getting under Widowmaker's skin.

That was good.

“You don't mean that, Lena.” Angela whispered, still moving inexorably forward. “You're strong. You're not going to let them win, are you? You're not going to let them have you. I know you're not, because you're my best friend.”

"Lena's dead, Angie!" Widowmaker yelled from behind the grave. "She's dead, she's gone, and I'm better than her!" Angela kept walking forward, coming up to the assassin, and crouching down on the other side of the grave. Smiling, she ruffled the purple hair slightly. "That's not true." Widowmaker drew back, pistol out, angry. "Yes it is!" The blue woman yelled. "You don't know me, Angie!" Angela smiled again, covering up the hope that was flaring within her. "You called me 'Angie'....you called me 'Angie', Len'." She said, still locking her gaze to Widowmaker's.

The assassin’s eyes flickered back and forth between Angela and Aleks, her expression that of a caged and wounded animal. Springing back in a flip, Widowmaker landed on top of another headstone, firing a wrist-mounted grappling hook behind her. Angela received one last, burning look, and then the revenant grappled away into the night.

 

Aleks came up next to her, putting away her pistol. “You are troubled, my love.”

Angela gave a sigh, brushing the snow off the headstone next to Amélie's. The words on it read:

 

_Lena Oxton_

_Hero_

_Friend_

_“One smile can change the world.”_

_We miss her._

 

_“_ Every day, another shallow grave.” Angela murmured, shaking her head. “When does all this end, Aleks?”

Aleksandra furrowed her brow. “Admittedly, I do not know. But I know we will fight to the last breath to preserve a future where there will be no more Talons, and no more Overwatches. We fight so others will not have to.”

Angela nodded, mind slipping back to the pained look on Widowmaker's face as the assassin had fled the graveyard.

“That's enough, for now.” She whispered to the darkness.

“For now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, as stated above, writing makes the darkness go away.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, or at least survived, and as always, comments and criticisms are appreciated and encouraged.
> 
> 'Til later, then.


End file.
